


Analgesia

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Analgesia, And Steve is Going to Make Sure He's Okay, Curses, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sort Of, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is not himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Tony wakes up feeling good.The day goes downhill from there.





	Analgesia

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my prompt party, prompt #17! You can see fills by checking out my #prompt party tag on tumblr. This one is for anon - thanks for the idea! <3
> 
> Thank you, as always, to ashes0909 for beta. Thank you to riseupeyesupwiseup for cheerread and rubber ducking and thank you to the MCU discord for helping me out of a few tough spots!

Some days, waking up just felt _good._

Tony sprung out of bed and stretched up tall. He winked at JARVIS' camera in the corner, knowing he'd woken about ten seconds before his AI was going to set off his alarm. He hummed tunelessly as he worked through the steps to make coffee on muscle memory alone. It wasn't long before the shared kitchen was filled with the aroma of sweet ambrosia, and he leaned in towards the machine and breathed in deeply.

"You can't drink it before it's actually finished brewing, Tones," Rhodey said, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn.

"Watch me." Tony pulled down two mugs and set them up, bouncing on his toes while the coffee maker hissed.

Rhodey yawned and stretched then winced. "Ugh, I'm getting too old for this superhero shit. That fight yesterday left me more bruise than not."

"Hmm." Tony reached his arm above his head until his shoulder popped pleasantly. "Speak for yourself, old man, I still feel as spry as a freshly thawed Capsicle."

"It actually took almost a week for everything to stop aching," came Steve's voice from the corner, and Tony and Rhodey both yelped and startled. "Freezer burn, I guess."

"We talked about this, man," Rhodey said, pointing an accusatory finger. "You move way too quietly for a man your size."

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes affectionately. "Maybe you two just aren't very observant."

Tony waved the "My Other Car Is Iron Man" mug in Steve's direction. "You want coffee or not Tiptoes?"

"Yes, yes, sorry. Coffee please." Steve smiled, and Tony's heart did dangerous things in his chest, pounding in a way that screamed of uncalculated risk.

The coffee maker burbled to a stop, and Tony tugged the carafe out and started to pour. He'd used the fancy espresso maker for all of a week, then realized that at least half of the tower woke up around the same time, and making one caffeine hit at a time really put the pressure on. After Bruce had been last in line and the caffeine headache had nearly made him Hulk out, Tony switched to the much quicker drip. He sure missed his latte though.

But it was worth it to see Steve light up when Tony pushed the full mug - plus two sugars and one cream - across the table towards him. They gathered around the table, Tony on his tablet, Rhodey on his phone, and Steve reading the paper like some relic (and how the heck was he getting papers delivered to the tower anyway?). Tony sipped his coffee, hesitant, expecting it to be hot, but instead it was the perfect temperature, warm enough that his whole insides purred with comfort as he gulped it down.

"Did you see Hammer secured a space in the Future Expo?" Rhodey asked, sipping his coffee then flinching. Tony pushed the milk carton towards him. Rhodey was so picky about his coffee. But he didn't take it, just frowned at his mug and set it down again. "Cheap, StarkExpo knock-off," he muttered.

Tony grumbled at the name. "Pretty sure he applied for the StarkExpo first. Pep sent me all the applications, and I remember a familiar wave of nausea when I flipped through the names."

Steve's lip curled. "What's he presenting?"

"No idea."

"Some 'breakthrough' medical thing," Rhodey muttered, scrolling on. "Who cares?"

Steve hummed unhappily but turned back to his paper, and they all lapsed into silence again. Tony couldn't keep his eyes from flicking over the edge of the tablet every couple of seconds to watch Steve flip his way through the business section, sigh at sports, then chuckle at the comics in the back.

His paper read, Steve muttered something about getting the day started and wandered out, mug in hand, presumably heading for the gym for his eighth workout of the morning, or whatever he spent all his time doing. Tony sighed after him, butterflies bouncing around in the coffee puddles in his stomach.

Rhodey, without looking up from his phone, snorted. "I was going to ask you how that situation is going, but it seems I don't have to."

"He's perfect, Rhodey-bear. I've never loved like this before."

"Tell him."

"Nope."

"Tell him or I'll tell him."

"That didn't work with Lainey Simpson in first year physics, and it ain't gonna work now, platypus. Besides, I think pining becomes me. Maybe I'll dress in something flowy and go moping about on a hilltop or something."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him. "You live in Manhattan and it's raining. At best you'll end up soaking wet, on the roof, wearing one of Natasha's nightgowns. I think you should tell him, instead of being some gothic, romance novel heroine."

"Does Natasha even own nightgowns?"

"Clint's then."

"What if I tell him and he punches me because he's from the forties?"

"He won't punch you, Tony. He loves you."

"What if I tell him and he never speaks to me again?"

"He won't never speak to you again, Tony. He loves you."

"What if -"

"What if you tell him and says he loves you back and kisses you?"

Tony knocked back the rest of his coffee in one mouthful. "As if. That only happens in movies. It's okay. I'm resigned to die of a broken heart. Just put something really cool on my gravestone, like, 'He died as he lived, flying stunt helicopters into volcanos.'"

"You know, if you count the armour as a stunt helicopter, considering that thing last week with Lava Man, you're not that far off."

Tony stood with a groan. He waved his empty mug towards Rhodey's full one. "Something wrong with the way I made your coffee?"

"Hmm? No. It's just still too hot." Rhodey looked at Tony. "You must have put a ton of milk in yours. Even Cap was blowing on his."

Tony just shrugged and went to the counter for a refill. "I think today is going to be a good day," he said, smiling out the window at the buildings below. Today I'm going to solve the issue with the quantum nebulizer."

"Glad to hear it," Rhodey mumbled, eyes back on his phone.

Tony shook his head and walked out, headed for the lab.

**

Tony _meant_ to solve the issue with the quantum nebulizer but on his way to the back of the lab to get the generator, he saw the half-built missile housing for the Mark 52 and had to take that apart and put it back together with a more efficient wiring system.

And then there was the thing with Nat's new stun discs.

And then Tony remembered that he'd always meant to install repulsors in his Lotus and there was no time like the present. He took the door panels off and lay them out on the floor, asking JARVIS to project a hologram wireframe over them of the proposed alterations.

Time spun on as Tony flicked through the wireframe, refining it over and over until it was ready for construction. He lifted the heavy panel up with a grunt and made his way over to the welding station while JARVIS fabricated the prototype pieces.

The panel obscuring his vision completely, Tony bounced wildly off the sharp corner of the workshop table and stumbled to the side, the panel slipping from his fingers. "Fuck!"

"Need a hand?"

He peered over the panel, now resting half on his foot, half on the floor, and Clint looked back, eyebrows raised. Tony smiled. "Sure."

Clint came over and lifted the other end of the panel. "Holy shit, Stark, this weighs a ton."

"Right here - yeah, good. Thanks." Tony set his end down and lifted the hem of t-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Jesus Christ!" Clint's hand landed on Tony's ribs and he flinched away, startled. "Dude, what happened?"

"What?" Tony dropped his shirt and tried to follow Clint's line of sight. "What?"

Clint grabbed his arm to still him and lifted his shirt to reveal the jut of Tony's hip. There was a sharp red line cut across the skin and a dark bruise bloomed around it, bright pink at the edges, but purpling already. "Is that from yesterday? I thought the suit was supposed to protect you from stuff like that."

"Huh." Tony poked it, but it didn't hurt. "Can't feel it. But it looks new. Is it bleeding?"

Clint touched Tony's skin lightly. "Nope."

Tony's skin dotted with purpling spots of broken blood vessels.

"You really don't remember getting it? It must have hurt like a bitch."

Tony shrugged. "I've been in the zone." He poked the bruise again, but it was apparently one of those that looked horrible but didn't hurt at all. He bruised easily.

"That's cool. What are you up to?"

Tony grabbed the invitation to talk and ran with it, walking Clint in extreme detail through his plans for the car. Clint offered to help so they spent the next hour hauling around pieces then took a break for a smoothie. Tony sipped his cup of green, frowning a little when it didn't taste like anything. The kale must have been getting old. He made a mental note to reorder the veg then dove back into his plans.

Maybe the roof could use a automated fireworks display for holidays....

**

Tony got a sudden urge for bao shortly after Clint had to leave, so he left his projects and ventured into the streets. He was walking back from the takeout shop, a styrofoam container clutched in one hand, licking sauce from the other, when he heard a low, stressed voice saying, "He'd better show."

Tony paused and turned his head towards the voice, finding a couple standing halfway in the shadows of an alleyway. The woman was holding a large backpack so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Intrigued and a bit worried, Tony took his phone out and leaned back against the brick, close enough that he could hear, but far enough that it didn't look like he'd stopped there just for them. There was something about the tension that vibrated through them that set off all kinds of alarm bells in Tony's mind.

"There he is… come on."

Footsteps disappeared deeper into the alley, and a moment later, a man with a knit hat pulled low over his brow slipped in after them. Tony finished his food and tossed the container in the trash. This looked sketchy.

He peeked around the wall, but no one was in sight, so he set off down the alley in search of the three ne'er-do-wells. They were gathered in an inset corner of the alley, next to a dumpster. The backpack was open now, and inside were several very obviously Chitauri-tech weapons. Tony smiled to himself. Wasn't every day he got to stop an illegal weapons deal.

"Hey guys!" he called. "Anyone order an Avenger?"

The three looked up with a shout, and Tony twisted his watch open, sliding the gauntlet up and over his fingers until it took shape. He launched himself forward and slammed his fist into the face of the first man, bringing him to the ground with ease. The woman leapt onto his back like a backpack, arms around his neck and Tony stumbled around until he managed to slam her against the brick wall. He shot a stun-grade repulsor blast over his shoulder and her arms loosened from around his neck until she hit the ground with a thump.

The man with the hat was furiously stuffing the weapons back in the backpack, ready to bolt, so Tony skidded across the asphalt and slammed into him, bringing them both to the ground. A rush of adrenaline had Tony wrestling him down instead of firing the repulsor. This was _fun._

The man got a hand free and grappled with his own waistband.

"Well, it's not the first time someone's enjoyed wrestling with me in an alley, but at least take me to dinner first."

He pulled out a gun.

"Ah."

Tony reared back to get him fully in the face, and a shot rang out in the alley, making Tony's ear ring. He felt the ruffle of his clothing as it zinged past him. He pressed his palm to the man's face and fired, knocking him unconscious, sprawled on the ground.

Tony bounced to his feet and dusted his hands off, looking at his handiwork with pleasure. Three KO-d criminals and a bag of black market weapons, all on his own. Sirens blared in the distance, but before they were close enough to signal the cops' arrival, footsteps barrelled down the alley.

Tony braced himself but it was Steve who burst out and faced him. "Steve?"

"Oh my god, Tony, what happened?" He wasn't out of breath, because he was perfect, but he had the wind-ruffled look of someone who ran here very fast.

"How did you know to come?"

"JARVIS told me it was an emergency, but he couldn't tell me what kind!" He waved his phone and Tony could see a map on his screen. "All he had were coordinates. But then I got outside and heard the gunshot. Are you alright?"

Tony had forgotten about the alert protocols that went off when he used the gauntlet watch. "Yeah, he missed." Tony gestured to the knocked out dealers, grinning. Damn, he'd kicked ass, and he didn't even have his armour. He'd known today was going to be a good day. But Steve stumbled towards him, face twisted into his superhero scowl. They really had to have a talk about that scowl; it didn't photograph well.

Steve's voice was carefully steady when he asked, "Are you okay?" again.

"Are you kidding? I'm awesome. I kicked ass. High five. Oo, watch the gauntlet."

Steve frowned at his proffered palm then grabbed Tony by the other shoulder. "What's that? Is that yours? Tony… You said he missed. Tell me that's not yours."

"What? He did miss. I'm not hurt." Tony tried to get a good look at his side where Steve was staring, but he couldn't wriggle his arm out of Steve's iron grip. Something in his shoulder shifted with an odd noise, and Steve dropped him like a hot potato, the blood draining out of his face.

"Tony… oh god, it is. You're bleeding. You're -"

"What? No, I'm not. I feel fine."

Steve reached out towards him again but didn't touch. "Are you sure? There's a hole in your shirt and there's blood everywhere. I -" Steve pressed his hand against Tony's side and the world disappeared in a pretty twinkling of fairy lights. Tony hit the ground like a sack of flour, out cold.

**

The world rushed back, slamming into Tony like an ocean wave. The undertow that followed almost dragged him back under again but he blinked and swallowed, and oh hey, there was Natasha glowering down at him.

"Hey, Nat," he slurred.

"You were shot," she said. "And you didn't tell anyone."

"I didn't know." Tony smacked his cottony tongue against the roof of his mouth and tried to encourage the ceiling tiles to stop dancing around each other. He felt floaty and a bit stupid, and to his surprise, nothing hurt. "They must have me on the really good stuff."

"They have you on nothing."

"Huh? But nothing hurts and I feel... swoopy."

Nat's fingers closed around Tony's wrist, and he realized he had raised it up towards the dancing ceiling. "The swoopy is from the anesthetic. They didn't want you waking up and flailing around while they were sewing you back together. The other thing… well… Steve said you had no idea you'd been shot, and we all talked it over. Clint told us about the bruise in the lab, and Rhodey said you drank scalding hot coffee this morning and didn't notice. Tony -" She was cut off by the door opening, and Steve's worried face appearing.

"Awake?"

"For a given definition of awake," Tony said, finally succeeding in getting the room to calm down. His vision was spotty still, but otherwise he felt fine. He pushed himself up to sitting, and was surprised when his stomach rolled with nausea. He kept waiting for the inevitable pounding headache to kick in, but it didn't.

"We think you can't feel pain right now," Natasha said bluntly, barreling on from before Steve had come in.

"What?"

Steve set his hand on Tony's foot and squeezed gently. His touch warmed Tony's cool skin and he smiled at Steve who quirked an eyebrow back. "Can you not feel that?" Steve said.

"What? Feels good."

"I'm pinching your toe." Steve moved his hand and lifted Tony's foot to show him. There was angry red line under Steve's finger, the skin gone white around it as it gave to the pressure. Tony knew it should hurt - it looked painful - but it didn't feel like anything more than a soft squeeze.

"Oh." Bit by bit the morning flowed in. Waking up with no aches and pains from the battle the day before, drinking the coffee without a burn, bouncing off the table in the lab, the gunshot... "I can't feel pain?"

Nat shook her head. "We're not sure why. There's CIP, of course, but it makes no sense for you to randomly get that overnight in your forties. Obviously, we suspect foul play, but…"

"It kind of seems like magic," Steve finished for her.

"Huh. What a weird curse to give someone." Tony finished sitting up and reached for the water cup beside his bed. Both Steve and Nat shouted and flinched towards him. "What?!"

Steve guided his arm back down then grabbed the water cup and held it out for him. "You're going to pull your stitches out," he said gently.

"I feel fine."

"That's exactly why you're going to pull your stitches out. You won't be able to feel it."

Steve settled on the bed beside him, effectively locking Tony's arm to his ribs, and Nat stood, patting Tony on the thigh. "I'm going to tell the doctors you're awake and call Bruce and Clint. Rhodey was here for a few hours, but he had to go as soon as they knew you were out of the woods. Make sure you text him."

She left, and Tony sucked at his straw, no longer thirsty but unable to think of anything to say. Steve vibrated with tension next to him. He blocked Tony from reaching for his phone, but when Tony looked longingly at it, he handed it over. Tony typed awkwardly with his arms close to his sides. If Steve weren't sitting on his left, he'd have no idea which side the stitches were even on without moving or looking. He could feel the pull of them, and the pull of the tape over them, when he moved, but when he was still there was… nothing.

"I keep wanting to ask you how you're feeling…" Steve finally muttered.

Tony shot him as reassuring a smile as he could manage. "Pretty great, actually," he said around his straw. "Can't feel the arc reactor for the first time in five years. That should have been my first clue."

Steve blinked at him. "Oh…"

"It's weird waking up with no pain. I thought I just felt really, really good, but now that I think about it, it's pretty obvious." He rubbed his chest idly, wondering at the way his fingers felt nothing but nice as they pressed into the sensitive area around his scars. "I highly recommend it. It's like a vacation." Tony smiled again, trying to convince Steve it was worth joking about. But Steve looked pale and uncertain.

"Are you really in pain every day?"

Tony shrugged. "Sure. I'm human and old and a bit broken. It's life. You don't -?"

Steve shook his head. "The serum takes care of everything. I've never felt pain for more than a day or two, and that's only when it's really bad. I always wake up pain free." His expression twisted darker. "I remember what it's like to be in pain all the time, though."

"Oh." Tony winced as Steve looked crestfallen. "Don't feel bad about it, Steve. You're a supersoldier. You also can't get drunk, so, you know, trade offs."

That finally got a laugh. "Fair enough. Do you -"

The doctor bustling in cut him off. Steve stood and backed off as the doctor and a nurse fussed over Tony's bandages and stitches. He held perfectly still while they worked, mildly weirded out by the complete lack of discomfort when they tugged at the tape holding gauze over his wound. "Well, you'll live," the doctor said cheerfully, "as long as don't reopen this. Apparently we don't have to give you any pain killers, but I won't be past giving you a sedative if you won't take it easy, Mr. Stark." She raised a judgemental eyebrow.

"I'll be good," he promised, batting his eyelashes as innocently as he could.

She pursed her lips and hummed. "Well, I guess they can take you home. We don't like having Avengers in the hospital. Paints a target on the roof. And if I know you, you'll be sneaking out by tonight anyway. Come back in a week for a check. Or in two days when you pull out your stitches." Tony laughed. "Goodbye. Mr. Stark, Captain." She retreated again.

Nat appeared with Tony's clothes and helped him in them, while Steve gathered up the things they'd somehow managed to spread around the room in less than a day. "Since you won't feel pain," Nat explained on the way down to the car, "you have to be really carefully attentive about other signs of infection."

"Got it."

"Dizzy… hot…redness..."

"I get it Nat. I'll tell you if I feel anything but perfect."

"Alright."

Steve, for his part, didn't seem to accept Tony's promise as easily. When they arrived at the tower, he stuck to Tony's heel like a golden retriever puppy, quietly following him around while he dumped his stuff in the penthouse and made some toast to soothe his still roiling stomach. "Okay, what gives?" Tony finally asked, when he turned around to get the butter and slammed into a solid six-foot, two-inch wall of concern.

Steve had the decency to blush. "You're hurt but you can't feel it Tony. I've already stopped you from raising your arm three times since you got home. I think the lack of pain is making you a little… uh… more distracted than usual. Anyway, I haven't got anything better to do, so I thought I'd help you out."

"You mean stalk me."

"Assist you."

"Mother me."

"Tony."

"Steve."

"Do you really think you're safe to operate heavy machinery right now?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter while Tony spread the butter on his toast.

He chewed thoughtfully, imagining breaking a finger off inside the Iron Man armour and just carrying on, casually squirting blood all over his hologram table. Hmm. "I guess not."

"But you're going to do it anyway, right?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah… probably."

"So all I'm asking is that you let me help you. I'm not going to try and stop you. I'm just going to help you do the things that are hard to do when you're hurt. And - ah - okay maybe stop you from hurting yourself more."

Tony shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth, flicking his eyes away towards the sink. Because that was the problem, he was pretty sure Steve couldn't do that. If anything, him being around was going to make Tony more likely to hurt himself because ever since he woke up at the hospital, the words "I love you so much I'd marry those stupid khakis of yours just to have a excuse to visit you on holidays" kept welling up in his throat and threatening to push out. They were caught somewhere between the urge to jump off the roof and see if JARVIS would catch him and the urge to empty all the food out of the fridge and sort it by alphabetical order just… well, because.

There was a manic impulsivity crackling under his skin and it seemed it would have him plummeting to his death no matter what. If he told Steve how he felt, Steve would punch him out the window, if he jumped off the roof, JARVIS would not know how to catch him, and if he thawed all the Ben and Jerry's, Hulk would throw him into New Jersey. It was a no-win, but he still yearned to do all three of them at once. Maybe he did need a babysitter. "Okay. But don't touch my science without asking."

Steve nodded, smiling softly now. "Okay. Deal."

**

It turned out that keeping Tony from ripping his own fingers off was a full time job.

Tony flitted from project to project like a hummingbird on speed, words spilling out in a torrent of manic explanation. Every now and then he paused, and rewound everything he'd said to make sure he hadn't revealed his more-than-friendly feelings.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"You suddenly stopped moving. Are you okay?"

Tony blinked at Steve. He hadn't realized he was actually freezing in place whenever he did his little mental review.  "I feel weird, you know. Beyond the pain," he admitted.

Steve smiled. "I know, Tony, I can tell. You're bouncing off the walls. I think whatever's happened to you has affected you in other ways."

Tony rocked on the balls of his feet. "I'm going to have to agree with you there. I feel like hang gliding. Or baking cookies. Do you want to drive to Vermont?"

Steve's lips twisted like he was holding back a laugh. "Why?"

"I dunno," Tony looked around the workshop. "Maple syrup?"

"I think we should stay in New York."

"Okay." Tony's eyes skated up Steve's chest and got stuck on his mouth. He had just enough impulse control to stop himself from tasting it, though he did wobble forward a bit.

Steve caught him by the shoulder with a frown. "Dizzy?"

"Nope!" Tony skittered off to the other side of the lab. The quantum nebulizer. He'd forgotten all about it. It would be a breakthrough for his nanotech if he could get it working. Tony found the huge generator behind a pile of discarded Iron Man gauntlets and bent to pick it up.

"Wait!" Steve yelped. "How heavy - Tony!" The generator was ripped out of his hold, and Steve's arm appeared around his waist, dragging him off across the lab and into the bathroom.

"What's happening?" Tony scrambled for a handhold, finding one at the back of Steve's jeans and hazarding a squeeze before he was dumped on the bathroom counter. Steve started shoving at his clothes. "Steve what gives?"

"You're bleeding," Steve growled. "Again. How much did that thing weigh? You can't be throwing equipment around right now, Tony, christ."

"Sorry." Tony let Steve ruck his shirt up and frown at his side. "Give it to me straight, doc."

"You just pulled one stitch - which is a miracle, frankly. But you'll have to go back in to get it redone."

"Can't you do it?" Tony begged. "I know SHIELD gave you all that field medic training. Please?"

Steve's frown deepened. "I don't think so. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't hurt me. Pretty please?" When Steve didn't soften, Tony grabbed his wrist and caught his eye. "Steve, I know I'm being kinda crazy right now, and I really don't want anyone to see me like this. It's just a single stitch. I know you've done worse for Nat, and I know Nat's done way worse for Clint. Pretty sure she sewed a toe back on him once. Besides, you know the hospital hates having us there. Whoever did this to me was probably trying to cause a distraction, weaken me, weaken the team. Don't let them win."

Steve rolled his eyes at the obvious manipulation, but he also looked like he was softening. "Let me see it properly and then I'll decide," he said, finally.

Steve's fingers curled around the hem of Tony's shirt and tugged. Tony knew, of course, logically, that Steve needed to get his shirt off to treat his gunshot wound, but he lifted his arms over his head to allow the shirt to slide up and as soon as his face was covered, Tony was flooded with a thousand memories of fantasies that had started just like this. Steve would grab Tony's shirt, strip him out of it then follow its path with his mouth, sucking and kissing and biting.

Tony's logic brain knew that this was medical care, not seduction, but Tony's logic brain seemed to be on vacation today, and his impulse brain was filling in. As soon as the shirt pulled free of Tony's arms, he reached out, grabbed two handfuls of Steve's belt, hauled him in, and kissed him square on the mouth.  

Steve sunk into the kiss, but only for a moment before he gently pushed Tony away, stepping back. Tony chased after him with a whine, but Steve's hand firmly splayed over his chest kept him pinned on the counter.

"Tony, you're bleeding," Steve said softly. He stepped away and disappeared into the lab, coming back with a first aid kit. Steve set to work cleaning up Tony's wound, while Tony stared at him, trying not to fidget. Steve swiped an antiseptic pad over the blood-stained skin, taking the time to clean around the other stitches when Tony didn't flinch away. He landed a steadying hand on Tony's stomach and Tony stopped breathing. Steve's skin was hot against his, pressure firm enough to hold Tony in his seat even as he struggled against the urge to bounce back onto the floor.

Perched on the counter, Tony's legs hung freely and Steve kneeled on the floor, leaning in close to see his work. The position brought Steve's chest up against Tony's leg, and Tony fought valiantly against the need to reach out with his toes and pet up the length of Steve's thigh to his stomach. He needed to touch, but Steve had a little crease in his brow that said he wouldn't be allowing anything to distract him from the task at hand. Tony had to wait.

But he'd done it! He showed Steve how he felt. And Steve hadn't punched him - that was a good sign. Once Steve had finished sewing him back together, they could go back to the kissing. He had plans for a lot more kissing. And so much more.

Steve took out a single-pack, curved needle, already threaded, and laid it out beside more cleaning swabs, a pair of tweezers, and a stack of paper towel. He slipped on a pair of gloves then ripped open the packet. Tony watched as Steve used the tweezers to poke the point of the needle through his skin and eased it through until he could grab it on the other side. With a gentle tug, Steve drew the two sides together. It was weird to be able to feel it without it hurting in the slightest, just mild pressure, nothing else. It was as if he was watching the procedure being done to someone else.

Without the distraction of pain, all Tony could focus on was the soft touch of Steve's hands on his bare skin, the slight puff of warm air as Steve examined his handiwork. He braced his knuckle against Tony's side as he pulled the thread through, then again with each careful knot. For all his power and strength, Steve was so precise and delicate with his hands. Heat flushed through Tony's veins, needy and wanting, and it was all he could do to stay glued to the counter instead of flinging himself into Steve's arms.

Maybe he should ask Steve to move in with him, up in the penthouse. Or he could get him a _dog._ Steve loved dogs. They could get married and go on a honeymoon starting tomorrow. So many good ideas; Tony didn't know where to start.

The furrow in Steve's brow deepened as he tied off the last knot. He snipped the thread and set the needle aside, letting out a breath that proved he'd been holding it for some time. He tapped a gloved finger over the bump of thread to smooth it out.

When he was back in one piece, and Steve had discarded the needle and snapped off the gloves, Tony reached back out towards him and managed to snag a handful of his shirt, eager to get back to the kissing part. But this time, Steve wouldn't let himself be pulled in. He smiled at Tony, from a safe distance, and it was affectionate, but also a bit… wry, like thought Tony was amusing in an embarrassing sort of way.

Like a child.

Tony thought he couldn't feel pain anymore, but he was dead wrong. Steve's kind, amused dismissal - like it was cute that Tony had kissed him - stabbed into his gut like a knife and he dropped Steve's shirt, doubling over himself.

"Are you okay?" Steve's hand landed gently on his shoulder.

Tony shook his head then turned it into a nod. "Fine. Just - still nauseous, I guess."

"Well that's what you get for trying to fuel yourself on toast alone. Come on, let's get you something more filling." Steve held out his hand, but Tony ignored it, hopping off the counter himself and making for the elevator.

And that was it, wasn't it? Steve had firmly and effectively dismissed Tony's come-on. It didn't matter that he was a little hopped up on analgesia, it was clear that Steve was not interested in going back to the kissing. The sharp pain in his stomach didn't fade, even as Steve made grilled cheese with broccoli on the side for both of them. Tony could still feel that manic energy coursing through him, but it was warring with the deep desire to crawl under his blankets and never come out.

Steve took a nibble out of Tony's sandwich before he let him have it, presumably to make sure it wasn't too hot, but maybe to check for hidden razor blades or something. Tony poked his food around the plate, wondering if he'd lost his sense of hunger now too.

"You okay?" Steve repeated, and Tony startled up. Nope, still hungry. Just not for food.

Tony hummed. "Little embarrassed, I guess," he admitted.

"Oh." Steve's cheeks pinked and he turned to look out the window. "That's okay. Don't be embarrassed. I know you can't help it."

_Can't help it._ Right. He couldn't help throwing himself at Steve in a moment of weakness. And the way Steve was chewing at his lip right now made it painfully clear that he'd known, maybe for a while, that Tony had it bad for him. And now he _couldn't help_ letting his feelings show because of some stupid curse. Being pain-free instantly lost all its appeal.

They'd been sitting in awkward silence for a while when Rhodey and Clint came in. "Hey, Tones, how are you doing?"

Tony shrugged. "Haven't ripped a finger off yet."

Clint's lip curled. "Glad to hear it."

"I think the impulsivity is getting worse," Steve said tactfully, avoiding Tony's eye. "He keeps bouncing all over the place."

"Sitting still sucks." Tony stood and took a turn around the living room. With Rhodey and Clint in the room, ratcheting down the awkward, the squirminess shot back to the forefront. "We could _all_ go to Vermont," he suggested.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow.

Steve sighed. "Don't ask."

"Do you think it's just going to keep getting worse and worse?" Rhodey asked, and Steve sighed. They fell into conversation, but Tony couldn't focus. He went to the window, then checked the fridge, then took his phone out.

He tapped through his apps, cycling through email, news, text messages and back to email again. Maybe he could channel this manic energy towards something useful. Work, work, work… Pepper had asked him to review the StarkExpo apps and flag anyone he was personally interested in. He could do that.

_Sonny Ocean… solar sail… could be interesting._

_Andrea Ramirez… app to translate sign language live… big yes._

_BroMeet… the app for meeting bros to hang with…_ Tony paused. "It's called Grindr, you idiots." He rolled his eyes.

_Yasuda Daichi… indoor farming revolution… hmm._

Tony jiggled his leg and marked it a yes then moved on. Hammer's came up next. Ugh. Tony bounced to his feet again, unable to sit still and wandered over to the elevators, pushing the button over and over to release some of his manic energy. He scrolled through Hammer's application, lip curled in disgust. He was so self-aggrandizing.

_Revolutionizing the medical field…_

_Erasing all need for dangerous and costly anesthesia…_

_Alter the processing of brain chemicals to diagnose depression and -_

Tony paused. He scrolled back up, read the whole application again. Hammer was proposing a nanobot treatment system that controlled the brain receptors responsible for processing nerve data and chemical uptake. Nerve data. Like pain. Hammer had developed nanobots that could control someone's pain receptors.

That _asshole._

The elevator hummed to a stop and opened as if it had heard Tony's desire for payback and arrived like a trusty steed. He stepped inside and pushed the button for the workshop. He was going to put a metal fist through Hammer's face and it was going to feel _so good._

When it stopped, Tony stepped out of the elevator and straight into one of his armours, blasting off through the bay window JARVIS helpfully swung open.

"Shall I alert the Avengers?" JARVIS asked Tony as he shot across the sky, headed for Hammer's office building downtown.

"Whatever," Tony said. "I don't need them. I've got this." He banked sharply, cut across town, and smashed through Hammer's top-floor office window. He skidded to a halt in a shower of glass and took a dangerous amount of pleasure in the terrified shock on Hammer's face.

Hammer took a deep breath and composed himself. "Stark," he drawled, "I don't believe we have an appointment."

Tony barreled across the office and snapped his gauntleted hand to Hammer's throat. "What did you do to me?" he growled, and a voice in the back of his mind screamed, _just snap his neck._ Tony shied away from the urge, but it pounded on his senses, filling all the space that pain had left vacant.

"What are you talking about, man?" Hammer clawed uselessly at Tony's hand then raised both of his in surrender. "I didn't do anything."

"I know this was you." Tony popped open the faceplate and glared down at him. "And I'm angry, and feeling particularly _impulsive…"_

"Okay!" Hammer squeaked as Tony's fist tightened. "Okay, okay. It was nothing, just a harmless prank. Come on, man. We're scientists. Science needs to be tested, right? I was doing you a favour, really, no pain is nice, huh?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. And no, it hasn't been particularly nice."

"I'll turn it off, okay? I can't stop it if you don't let me go." Hammer whimpered pathetically.

Tony was pretty sure he'd be able to figure it out on his own. There wasn't anything Hammer could do that he couldn't do twenty times better, but he still released his grip and let Hammer slump over, gasping and clutching his bruised throat. "Turn it off then. Now." The itchiness under Tony's skin was ramping up again. He needed to _do,_ needed to _move._ Maybe needed to throw Hammer right out the broken window…

"Alright, alright." Hammer shuffled over to his desk and turned on his computer. He started a program and hovered his mouse over a numbered pad. "You know it's a shame, really, that you figured it out before the program finished. I was hoping to get more usable data." He sighed heavily.

"What are you talking about?" Tony raised his hand and powered up his repulsors. But the program clearly had a passcode, and Tony didn't know it. He had to be careful with Hammer.

"Well, the goal was to find your breaking point. See what happened when the lack of pain and the impulsivity hit a peak and you just…" Hammer trailed off, but Tony knew what he meant. He felt that urge, the urge to do something wild and risky, blow up his lab, leap off something tall…

"You were trying to kill me," Tony snapped out.

Hammer laughed. "Oh no, Tony. You would have killed yourself."

Tony lunged forward, but Hammer entered the code and the world exploded in searing, white-hot pain, and Tony fell to his knees instead. Everything was on fire - his skin, his nerves, his brain. They were burning, burning, and he couldn't make it stop. Tony clawed uselessly at the suit, trying to get access to his skin, to rip it off. He whined and choked, curling in on himself as every muscle cramped and released, the stitches in his side popping agonizingly.

He caught sight of Hammer's feet in his periphery as he writhed on the carpet. "Now I have to take care of you myself." He sighed like it was the biggest inconvenience. He crouched down and landed a hand on the back of Tony's head. "Think of all the wasted data."

Tony tried to growl, sobbed instead, and flinched towards Hammer. He just - if he could just - just get out of this skin, he could - but the world was spinning and going hazy and he couldn't make his fists unclench and he couldn't sit up, but Hammer needed to be stopped because he was going to do this to other people and Tony -

Tony -

Tony couldn't.

He curled into a ball at Hammer's feet, arms wrapped around his middle, and waited for the pain to pull him into unconsciousness. But right before he sunk into it, he heard the telltale whir of quinjet engines in the distance.

...someone screamed his name…

...Hammer screamed…

He let the darkness have him.

Coming back from Hammer's office was a blur. He was pretty sure it was Thor that scooped him up and carried him to the quinjet, but it had to be Natasha who tucked him into his bed and set pills and water and his phone by his side. Now, though, now those were definitely Steve's patriotic feet hooked on the edge of the window sill by Tony's pillow, drawing long lines up to where he was stretched out in a chair.

Tony shifted and a groan slipped out as his skin pulled against new stitches and his head throbbed. Every single muscle in his back reminded him firmly why he'd built himself bots to cart around the generators and car panels. But at least the searing pain of the nanobots was gone.

"Tony?" Steve asked quietly. His feet hit the ground with a soft thump. "If you're awake, you can take another pill."

That sounded wonderful so Tony forced himself to full consciousness. "I'm awake," he croaked. "I'm awake."

Steve helped him sit up and handed him his water and a pain pill. "You look a bit better," Steve offered. "Less pale."

"Oh, good." Tony shot him a look.

"Sorry." Steve shifted in his chair. "I wish I could take it from you," he added softly.

Tony looked up sharply then dropped his gaze back to the water glass. He swirled it around. "I'd never ask you to." He took a sip. "Hammer?"

"In jail." Steve's jaw was tight, and he pushed the two words out between clenched teeth. "He'd hired some back alley villains to attack us last week, but their actual mission was to get the nanobots into you. Apparently all you had to do was breathe them in. They targeted certain parts of your brain, blocked your pain receptors and made you dangerously impulsive. It looked like he was actually developing it for medical reasons at first, but once he realized what he could do with it…"

"I'll take it," Tony said. "I'll make it better. Safe."

"I know you will."

They fell into silence. Every muscle in Tony's body was aching, throbbing at different frequencies alongside his headache which redoubled its pounding every time he shifted on the sheets. His shoulder ached, and he remembered Steve grabbing it in the alley and how he'd twisted in his grip, making it pop and catch. Painlessly then… horribly painful now.

Steve cleared his throat. "I know you probably just want to go back to sleep -"

"No, no." Tony interrupted him. "I don't want to fuck up my sleep schedule too badly. I need to stay awake for a bit." And if Steve left him alone he'd just be lying in pain, unable to fall asleep, but hating being awake at the same time. Not that having Steve here wasn't a torture of its own.

"Oh." Steve looked like he had more to say, so Tony waited. "Well, you probably don't want to talk about this, but something Natasha said…I think we should talk about..." He bit his lip hard enough to make it turn white, and Tony flushed hot.

"Oh, that."

"Um, yeah."

"I was drunk on painlessness, Steve. Don't worry about it. You were right to pretend it never happened. I'm really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"Oh." There was a long pause. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Steve shrugged. "Sure."

"Good…" But it didn't feel good. Tony set his water glass aside and picked up his phone. He opened his email app, but he could see Steve pouting out of the corner of his eye, and that hurt more than the bullet hole in his side. "It just hurts too much," he said before he could stop himself.

"What?" Steve's eyes went wide.

"It hurts too much… being around you and not getting to have you. I never realized how much it hurt until all the other pain disappeared. And now that I know what it's like to kiss you... I think… I think I need to take a break - vacation, whatever. But don't worry, I'll be back. I just need to get the red white and blue out of my lungs a little, I guess. I hope we can still be friends when I get back."

Steve froze absolutely dead still for a moment then his hand shot out and wrapped around Tony's wrist, as if he thought he was going to leave for his vacation this very minute. "Wait," he gasped.

Tony quirked an eyebrow. "I have a hole in my gut, Steve, I wasn't planning on going anywhere right now."

Steve snorted out a shaky laugh. "Not even Vermont?"

"Well… maybe Vermont." They shared a smile that made Tony's heart flip. "See, we can still be friends."

"Okay, three things." Steve's hand didn't move from Tony's wrist. "The first thing you need to know is that we'll always be friends. Your friendship is one of the most important things in my life, Tony, and I'd never let anything like some messy feelings or a moment of awkwardness come between us. Honest. You mean the world to me."

"Oh. Well. That's good."

"The second thing is that if you really feel like you need a break, of course you can take one, anytime, but I will miss you terribly."

Tony's mouth seemed to be caught somewhere between a grin and a frown. Hearing Steve say he cared was filling Tony up with warm, lovely affection, while ripping his organs out at the same time. It was almost everything he wanted. Almost. But - "What's the third thing?"

Steve's thumb petted soft circles over the back of Tony's hand. "The third thing is… what makes you think you don't get to have me?"

Now it was Tony's turn to blink and say, "What?"

"You said it was too hard to be around me and not get to have me. Assuming that you mean have me the way I think you do, what makes you think you can't?"

"It's - I - I mean _have,_ like, like, the kissing from - um - earlier. And holding hands…" Tony trailed off at a complete loss, unsure if he was even speaking English still. But it was important that Steve knew it was "Not just sex."

Steve laughed. "Oh, okay, good. That's what I thought." His hand inched a little closer towards Tony's palm. "So what makes you think you don't get me, then?"

"I - well, I kissed you and you retconned it harder than Han shooting first. So that seemed, you know, like a no…"

"You were cursed Tony - or close enough anyway. You should have seen yourself. You were manic and wild and asked me to go skydiving four times. You also tried to get me to let you get a tattoo. I had no reason to think that you'd still want to kiss me when you were yourself again, and I had no desire to take advantage of you when you were under the influence."

They sat in ponderous silence for a strange moment while Tony ran that through his mind several times. Then he realized something. "Quick, kiss me again."

Steve smiled, shifting closer. "Why quick?"

"Because my pain pill is going to kick in any moment now, and I really, really need you to know that I mean it." He met Steve's eyes. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, wanted to kiss you for so long, but it took stupid Hammer to give me the courage to do it."

Steve's smile bloomed into something more, something so much better. He shuffled up and braced his hands on either side of Tony's hips on the bed then he bent down and oh-so-lightly pressed their lips together.

His kiss was warm and soft and washed through Tony like a shot of good whiskey, straight to his toes. He sighed into it, parting his lips and slotting them against Steve's. Steve pulled away too soon, but he didn't go far. And he was still smiling.

"More please," Tony said cheekily.

"Oh no. You should take it easy. I'll still be here when you're better. Promise." Steve finally dropped his hand down to Tony's fingers and wound them together. Steve's hand was warm and solid and perfect.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yes, Tony?"

"Thank you for not letting me get a tattoo."

"You wanted a unicorn riding a rainbow-coloured tank into battle on your left butt cheek."

"Hmm." Tony blinked up at the ceiling pondering that.

"There's was also talk of getting my shield on your forehead," Steve added.

"That one I might still get."

"Oh my god, you're a lunatic."

Tony laughed and squeezed their fingers together. Because that was something he was allowed to do now. "Shut up and kiss me," he said with a grin.

But Steve frowned. "You have a gunshot wound."

"Don't worry," Tony said, pulling Steve in with his free hand. "I can't even feel it."

**Author's Note:**

> I know Hammer ends up kind of Killian-y, but... just smoosh them together into one bad guy :P


End file.
